


The Price of Victory

by junko



Series: Senbonzakura's Song [17]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 08:25:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1681496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichigo has collapsed after defeating Aizen.  Back in the Soul Society, Renji tries to comfort Rukia as life in the Seireitei slowly begins to recover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price of Victory

**Author's Note:**

> Josey did her usual excellent job typo-spotting, though I did add a few things after her last look-through. If you find mistakes, they're down to me.
> 
> I have to say that this is one of the hardest canon moments for me: Ichigo's loss of powers. It doesn't surprise me that Kubo-sensei chose to skip over the next fourteen months (or however long it is.) I, however, plan to make my long, meandering way through them.

Renji had hoped he’d be spending his first night back in the Soul Society snuggled up nice and warm in Byakuya’s bed. Instead, he sat in the darkened Thirteenth Division’s shared unseated quarters on Rukia’s futon with her body tucked up under his arm and her face pressed into his chest. She’d been sobbing for three straight hours. 

Not that he could blame her.

When Ichigo keeled over like that, even Renji thought maybe the kid had finally given up the ghost and bit the dust. But, then Urahara had given them the news… Ichigo was alive, but it would take a month for him to stabilize enough to even regain consciousness. And then after that? Apparently, Ichigo’d have a really short moment before his powers disappeared completely. He wouldn’t be able to see a regular ghost, much less be the substitute shinigami… ever again.

Renji’d had to carry Rukia back through the senkaimon. She hadn’t wanted to leave Ichigo’s side. 

He’d taken her here. He continued to stroke Rukia’s hair, wishing he knew what to say to comfort her. At least she had a month to pull herself together, to grieve. Ichigo wouldn’t want her tears. 

“He’s like any wounded vet now, Rukia,” Renji reminded her quietly. 

She nodded against his chest. Rukia knew what that meant. You don’t point out the injury and you keep your pity to yourself. What they need to hear is that their sacrifice was worth the price they paid. Ichigo had saved all their asses and taken down Aizen; he’d see that as a fair price. As a fellow soldier in the same war, you honored that. Full stop.

No matter how ugly the wound or how fucking unfair it all was.

But, when you were alone: all bets were off. You could cry and curse and scream or even quietly thank the gods that it was him and not you. 

Renji’s free hand sought out Zabimaru, where he’d set the zanpakutō beside him on the mattress. He gripped Zabimaru’s scabbard lightly, just to reassure himself of the nue’s presence. Renji had no idea how Ichigo could survive without his ‘Old Man Zangetsu.’ Urahara said he’d be ‘normal,’ but it didn’t seem right. What had happened to the zanpakutō’s spirit? Had it died? If so, how could Ichigo survive?

We’re going out together or not at all, Renji promised his zanpakutō.

Zabimaru grumbled uneasily.

Rukia’s sobs faded to quiet snuffling snores. Renji shifted his shoulder a little. Shutting his eyes, he leaned his head up against the wall, settling in for the night. No point trying to go back to the Sixth. It was way past curfew. He should probably send a butterfly and let them know where he was, but the kidō might wake Rukia—especially given how wobbly his was. Maybe once Rukia was well and truly out cold…

Quiet footsteps had Renji’s eyes snapping open. The shadow of Captain Ukitake stood at the door. His moonlit hair shimmered like liquid silver. “Don’t get up,” Ukitake whispered, seeing Renji struggling with how to bow or show respect. “Tell me how she is.”

“Not good, sir,” Renji admitted, keeping his voice low. “You heard what happened to Ichigo?”

Ukitake nodded. Coming in over the threshold, the captain picked his way around the other bedrolls and the people pretending to sleep. White haori glimmered ghostly white as he moved silently across the room. Hesitant steps that Renji first marked as caution transformed into stiff, painful movements the closer Ukitake got. At the very edge Rukia’s futon, Ukitake sank into to seiza. He clucked his tongue. “Poor lamb.”

Renji wasn’t sure if Ukitake meant Ichigo or Rukia—not that it mattered. “Should you be up, sir?” Renji asked. “You’re injured.”

Ukitake’s hand rested on his chest for a moment. “This is a very different pain than what I normally live with. It’s oddly invigorating.”

At first, Renji couldn’t imagine any kind of pain ‘invigorating,’ but then it occurred to him that an overstretched muscle after an intense training session at the dojo was often the sort of pain he associated with progress, so who was he to judge? Anyway, he wasn’t about to argue with a person about how they felt, certainly not a captain.

Ukitake patted Rukia’s foot, a gesture that was both awkward and deeply paternal. He gave Renji an anxious look, but said nothing.

Renji stroked Rukia’s hair gently. “She didn’t want to leave his side. I felt like an ass hauling her away. She would have fought me if Urahara hadn’t said he’d alert her in time to see Ichigo when he wakes up. In that tiny little window before….” Renji couldn’t even bring himself to say it.

Ukitake nodded sadly, in understanding. “They’ll only see each other long enough to say goodbye.”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Renji said, pulling Rukia in for a little hug at the thought.

They stared at Rukia for several silent moments before Ukitake said, “I’m glad she has a friend with her tonight. Do you need me to tell Byakuya where you are?”

“Aw, that’d be a relief, sir, much obliged,” Renji nodded.

Ukitake nodded in response absently. After a thoughtful glance around the room, he asked, “Do you think she’d sleep better in a room of her own? The lieutenant’s quarters are empty.”

Kaien’s old room? Would that be better or… creepy? Would it remind Rukia of the other soldier she loved who’d paid the ultimate sacrifice? One she’d had to kill again, no less. “I don’t know, sir. Her things are here, and I’d be sure to wake her if I carried her.”

“Ah, yes, you’re right, of course.”

Renji was kind of surprised Rukia didn’t have her own room, being a Kuchiki and all. But, she was also the sort to ask for no special treatment… especially when Kaien was still alive, and—well, technically, despite everything, she was unseated.

“It ain’t my place to say so, but she ought to have that room by rights,” Renji said.

“Oh, I know,” Ukitake said with a wan smile. “Who do you think I’ve been saving it for? But things were… awkward when she was newly sprung from prison. Not that I had time to promote her! She ran off after Ichigo before I could even say ‘boo.’”

Renji hadn’t thought about that. “Yeah, there is that.”

Ukitake reached out and patted Rukia’s stocking feet again. With a sigh, he stood up. He moved slowly and carefully, much more like the old man he was. “I suppose there’s nothing I can do for her tonight. Do tell her, when you wake up, that I’ll have the tea kettle on.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ukitake pushed hair from his face—a very tired gesture. “I’ll send that butterfly for you. Byakuya is probably anxious for news of you both.”

Renji nodded. “Thank you, sir. Goodnight to you.”

“Yes,” he said. “Try to get some sleep yourself, Renji. It’s been a long battle for us all.”

Renji wished he could have witnessed the fight that had injured Ukitake, especially since it had to mean that Kyōraku had battled, too. Maybe Kira had seen some of it. Renji’d have to try to get the dirt from someone who was there. Because what was that even like, those two, with their double swords? Renji’d heard rumors that the Captain-Commander had busted some moves as well. That must’ve been something to see, as well. 

Ukitake was gone as silently as he’d approached. Renji let out another long breath and tried to sleep.

Luckily, an old Inuzuri hound could sleep anywhere.

#

 

It was the same Inuzuri instincts that felt eyes on him in the morning. His own snapped open to see a collection unseated officers sitting in a ring around where he and Rukia were still propped up against the wall. One of the bolder ones, a girl with a Mohawk and an eyebrow piercing, leaned forward on her palms and asked, “Did we win, sir?”

Renji nodded. “We did. Ichigo defeated Aizen.”

Rukia blinked awake at the sound of Renji’s voice. 

He nudged her, “They want to hear about it, Rukia. You should tell them.”

Her big purple eyes blinked up at him. They were rimmed with red and puffy. He could see how much she just wanted to say ‘no’ and hide, but he gave her another nudge.

“Tell them about Ichigo. How brave he was. How fucking badass,” Renji added with a toothy smile. 

That coaxed a little smile out of her. “He did slice a mountain without even Getsuga Tensho.”

Renji nodded and gave the crowd a knowing look. “Badass.”

An appreciative “oooooh” came from those gathered. The Mohawk girl clapped her hands, “You’ve got to tell us, Rukia! Please?”

She shifted out from under Renji’s arm. He could feel her squaring her shoulders. She seemed hesitant, so Renji prompted with a few memorable moments, most of which they’d heard after the fact, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Rukia started to remember why Ichigo had done what he did; why the sacrifice was worth it. 

Once she was on a roll, he picked up Zabimaru and left her with a nod to let her know he’d be back to check in. She was going to need a lot of that: checking in, nights out drinking, and quiet, not talking times… But, despite how she always acted, it was clear she had a lot of friends and admirers. She wouldn’t be without support.

Renji’d been a fairly shitty friend for the past half-century. He had some making-up to do. Starting now.

#

Renji tried to sneak out of the Thirteenth quietly, but Captain Ukitake wouldn’t let him leave without offering the hospitality of the mess hall and a private cup of tea. Ukitake sat opposite Renji on the long porch overlooking the lake, watching him with an anxious expression. Renji was starting to feel self-conscious about how quickly he was shoveling the ochazuke, a dish of leftover rice and tea, into his mouth.

Ukitake smiled over the rim of his tea bowl. “You can breathe, can’t you?”

“Oh, uh,” Renji set the now empty bowl down in front of his crossed legs. “I guess I didn’t realize how hungry I was. And it’s…um, comfort food, the simple stuff.”

“Oh, yes! Ochazuke is Shunsui’s favorite hangover cure.” Ukitake said pleasantly. The little laugh he’d given at that seemed to have pulled a stitch or something because he winced a little before adding, “Well, besides that smelly pink stuff, which is some horrible liqueur he brought back from the Human World: strawberry sour mash whiskey.” 

So that’s what it was? Hair of the dog, was it? Renji smiled, remembering ‘borrowing’ a bit of that concoction after his and Byakuya’s first night together. 

“If you’re leaving,” Ukitake continued, the anxious expression returning. “I take it you believe Rukia is… recovered enough to be on her own?”

Ah! So that’s why the captain wouldn’t let him go. “Yeah,” Renji said, thinking to comfort him. But, then, deciding he couldn’t lie to Rukia’s captain, he started again: “Ah, no—this one is going to take time. I’m going to be coming back with a lot of ice cream and beer, you know what I mean?”

Ukitake’s thoughts seemed to turn inward, contemplating this. Winter wind churned up whitecaps on the lake. Reeds bent, rustling. A solitary eastern marsh harrier soared over the shoreline, hunting frogs.

“She’s tough,” Renji said, when Ukitake continued to sit in silence. No doubt Ukitake was thinking about the same thing Renji was: Kaien. That had been hard on Rukia… or so Renji’d heard. They hadn’t been close then, but she’d weathered that and that had to have been much, much worse in a lot of ways. She’d killed Kaien with her own hands and her love for him had been illicit at best, given he was married and all that. Even if Rukia never crossed any lines and got along with the wife, she still must have had so much guilt. 

Ichigo was alive. Rukia loved him without any complications beyond the usual ones. This wouldn’t be easy by any stretch of the imagination, but there had to be some comfort in that.

No, Renji knew there would be. They’d both lost so much in Inuzuri—so many different kinds of things, too. “She knows the value of life, sir, and Ichigo is still alive,” Renji said. “That’s important. Things are going to be hard for both of them, no question. But she’ll be able to keep that fact close to her heart. She’s patient, and you know a soul like his’ll come to us eventually,” no matter where he ended up. 

In fact, Renji figured Ichigo would break out of Hell to reach Rukia, if need be. Look at what he’d done when she’d asked him not to follow her. Ichigo’d be a zillion times more unstoppable if he knew she was waiting for him on the other side.

“Hmmm,” Ukitake murmured doubtfully. “Well, she is resilient and she’ll have her friends around her.”

At the pointed look Ukitake gave him, Renji said, “Yes, sir, she will.”

“Good.”

That was an obvious dismissal, so Renji gathered his bowls to return to the mess. Ukitake walked with him as he returned those and made his way to the gate. 

“Give our love to Byakuya,” Ukitake said. “We’d still like to have the two of you over for dinner some time.”

Yeah, that’d been what was missing. ‘Where is your partner, anyway?”

“Oh, Shunsui? He’s played with shadows. He’ll be drunk for a week!”

“Oh… uh,” Renji wasn’t sure to say to this, especially with Ukitake smiling at him like that, like he’d said something innocuous and un-noteworthy. “Okay. Well, um… I’ll see you around. I’ll be back to check on Rukia whenever I can.”

“Good, good,” Ukitake said, still holding on to his smile as he waved goodbye. 

#

 

When Renji stepped out of shunpō at the gate to the Sixth, the guards gave him a broad smile, a clap on the back, and a “Good to have you back, sir!” to which Renji replied with a laugh and a, “It hasn’t been that bad, has it?”

“The captain worked a double the other night,” said the taller of the two, a woman with a shock of golden hair that stood up like a thistle tuft. Renji remembered her name as Koemi, because, for all her toughness, she did have a girlish ‘little laugh.’ She let one of them out now as she added, “That was… _in_ -teresting.”

Renji leaned up against the interior wall and let the sunshine warm his face. “I bet. Tell me he didn’t try to lead practices.”

“No, thank fate,” she said. They shared a smile, remembering Byakuya’s attempt to teach the division some of his hakuda forms. Byakuya’s moves had been so fast that no one could see them, much less follow along. “But, I thought some people were going to end up in the clink or on the executioner’s block.”

Renji just shook his head. “More fool them, if they think testing their captain’s patience is anything other than suicidal. Speaking of, he in? Or do I have to trudge all the way up to the estate?”

The other guard answered with a snort. “You kidding? The captain has been hiding from that aunt of his since he got back. I guess some big contingent of cousins is coming for…his birthday, maybe?” He scratched the top of his closely shaved head, and then shrugged. “Anyway, he’s been holed up in his office.”

Byakuya’s birthday? Fuck, was it the end of January already? 

Renji made his goodbyes and pushed off the wall. As he passed the practice yard, the Fourth-now-Third Seat gave him a grateful ‘welcome back’ nod. Renji pointed up at the captain’s door and then made the five minute hand gesture to let her know he’d be back as soon as possible to get a status report and catch up on everything he’d missed. Climbing the familiar stairs, Renji was surprised by how much he felt ‘at home.’ He had no right to, given he hadn’t been lieutenant long—and half the time he wasn’t here. Still, the rooftops of the HQ, the mess hall, and dojo made a pattern that felt as etched into his skin as any of his tattoos.

He’d barely kicked his sandals off outside the door when Byakuya called him in with a: “How is Rukia?”

“About as well as you might expect.” Renji slid the door open and stuck his head inside. Byakuya sat in his usual place behind the low desk. Bookshelves lined the wall. The remains of breakfast sat on a tray in the little pillowed area near the window that Renji always thought of as their corner. The strong scent of expensive tea filled the room. “So, shitty, really.”

Byakuya nodded. Cleaning his brush, he set it aside. “It surprises me how… distressed I am by this turn of events. I thought there would be juice boxes at the wedding.”

Settling down, tailor-fashion, across from Byakuya, Renji let out a soft sigh. “Me, too.”

“Will she visit him?”

“I don’t know,” Renji said, tugging at the fabric of his hakama thoughtfully. “He can’t see her spirit form, but she could go in gigai. Still, is it fair to him? He’s got to live as a human now for however long he’s got.”

“I suppose it’s unkind to wish for an untimely death?” Byakuya asked in such a deadpan that Renji wasn’t even sure how to react, especially when Byakuya added: “Accidents happen.”

Renji laughed. “Jeez, Taicho, you already killed him once!” 

The little lift of eyebrows was Byakuya’s only acknowledgment before drawing down into a frown. “I don’t see how Kurosaki will be happy. Perhaps it would be a mercy killing.”

“I’m fairly sure that’s illegal,” Renji said, because not only was Byakuya sounding more serious, but he was also making some really good points. “Besides, don’t you figure Urahara will shove Ichigo under a bus, if it’s the thing that needs doing? Urahara’s already an outcast, and that way you don’t got to go to jail.”

“Mmmmm, excellent point,” Byakuya agreed dryly. He reached for the tea bowl that was at his elbow. Taking an expectant sip, he frowned, apparently finding it empty or gone cold. He turned to the teapot and automatically picked up a second bowl and set it in front of Renji. “Would you like tea, Renji?”

Renji smiled, remembering how, not so long ago, he’d sat in this same spot watching Byakuya pour himself sake, wondering if he’d ever get offered a drink. “Sure. That’d be nice. Thank you.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Byakuya said, once the tea was poured.

Renji waited for Byakuya to continue. When he didn’t, Renji took a sip of tea and prompted, “Oh? Should I be worried?”

The little smile that curled Byakuya’s thin lips was surprisingly mischievous. Renji felt a little thrill shiver down his spine at the sight of it. “Perhaps,” Byakuya admitted. “After… that is, do you remember that before you left for the Human World I promised to court you properly?”

“Yeah, you sent me all those love letters,” Renji said with a fond grin and a little wink. 

Byakuya seemed taken aback momentarily. Recovering, he admonished: “Renji. That was never meant to be _all_ of it.”

Oh? More courting? What the hell was that going to require? Renji frowned down at his reflection in the tea, fingers drumming on the delicate porcelain rim. “Ain’t it a little too late for me to be sitting in some bower with you serenading me from behind a screen? I mean, cripes: we have a safe word.”

“Indeed. Isn’t that part of our problem? That we had a safe word before I bought you flowers?”

“That’s a feature, not a bug.” Renji scoffed. At Byakuya’s blank look, he explained, “Some guys like it simple. You really think I’m the kind of person that needs flowers first?”

Byakuya caught Renji’s gaze and held it. “I do. I think, perhaps, you’ve never been offered that option. I would like to give it to you.”

Renji dug a finger in his ear trying to fathom what courting was going to entail. “You going to bring me flowers and write me poetry?”

“No, you’re the poet.” The little coy smile tugged at Byakuya’s mouth again. Renji felt himself blush a little at the memory of his attempt at poetry and how much it still clearly pleased Byakuya. Byakuya took a sip of tea and then said seriously, “But I would like a chance to take you out on the town, show you off… spoil you.”

Renji had to admit that some of that sounded pretty fine. “Yeah, but we’ll still have sex, right? Like, a lot.”

Byakuya blinked. “Don’t be foolish: of course.”

“Okay,” Renji said with a shrug. “I guess we could ‘court.’ But you got to let me court you back.”

“I do?”

“Yes, you do. I’ll do your things, if you do my things.”

Byakuya thought about this over several sips of tea. Then, he finally said, “Very well. That is acceptable.”


End file.
